J.B. Spins

Jazz, film, and improvised culture.

Thursday, February 28, 2013

Welcome to Pine Hill: Last Call in Brooklyn

Abu
has all the irony he can take. He works
as a claims adjuster, but he is uninsured.
The former drug dealer has just recently straightened out his life, only
to learn it will all soon end. Resolutely,
he settles unfinished business as best he can in Keith Miller’s Welcome to Pine Hill (trailer here), which opens
tomorrow in New York at the IFC Center.

In
the opening scene, lead actor Shannon Harper and writer-director Miller
re-enact the real life incident that brought them together. Their dispute over and lost-and-found pit
bull puppy first became Miller’s short film Prince/William,
expanded here into a full length feature.
It is a telling exchange between the gentrifier and the encroached. However Harper’s Abu has more pressing
concerns when his persistent stomach pains are diagnosed as a rare form of
cancer. With no real options available,
Abu aims for some closure, or at least the settling of debts.

Pine might sound
depressing because it is. There is just
no getting around it. Yet, it is also completely
hypnotic. Harper holds viewers
absolutely riveted with his quiet intensity, suggesting the crushing weight of
all the remorse, regret, fear, and pain bearing down on him. Recognizing the power and immediacy of his
work, Miller focuses in on Harper, letting him carry the picture on his
shoulders.

In
fact, the film’s spell is only broken when Miller forces the action into what
are clearly intended to be teaching moments.
We watch Abu moonlighting at a bar, where the white customers are
nauseatingly condescending, only to witness the protagonist act similarly with
immigrant cab drivers. Okay, we get it.

Although certainly looking DIY-ish and
improvisational, Pine should not be
lumped in the rest of the aimless mumblecore field. It is definitely headed someplace in
particular (Upstate New York), while addressing some profoundly heavy themes—sort
of like an Amour for Brooklyn
hipsters. Recommended largely on the
strength of Harper’s breakout performance for those who follow the indie scene,
Welcome to Pine Hill opens tomorrow
(3/1) at the IFC Center.

Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Cinequest ’13: The Playback Singer

His
job is to make others sound great, but he specializes in making himself look
bad. He dubs musical numbers for
Bollywood actors who cannot carry a tune in a bucket. He does it well. He is also a father, but not such a hot
one. Nonetheless, he will be staying for
a while with his daughter in Suju Vijayan’s The
Playback Singer (trailer
here), which
screens as a selection of the 2013 Cinequest Film Festival in San Jose.

Ashok
Rao has been married several times, but he only has one daughter: Priya. Of course, he was never around much. Still, she readily agrees to put up her
prodigal father when he comes to California for a concert. She is a bit apprehensive about seeing the
old man, while her freelance designer husband Ray Tomassi is a bit resentful,
knowing full well their limited history together. At first things are tense, especially when an
unscrupulous promoter leaves Rao high and dry.
Yet, Rao and Tomassi eventually warm towards each other. Wine helps.
Before long, she is fast losing patience with both of them.

Bollywood
fans might be disappointed to find Playback
adheres more closely to an American indie template. Still, Vijayan has the taste and discipline
to resist overplaying the fish-out-of-water culture clash card. Instead, it is much more preoccupied with
early midlife crises, the fear of failure, and the nasty realization you might
have married someone more like your father than you would like to admit.

Tomassi
is a dreamer and procrastinator, pathologically incapable of finishing his one commission,
a hipster jungle gym. Somehow though,
Ross Partridge lets us emphasize with his fears and self-indulgences. His unlikely buddy chemistry with Piyush
Mishra’s Rao evolves subtly and naturally.
A prominent actor in Bollywood/alternate cinema (including Gangs of Wasseypur), Mishra invests the
titular character with the right mix of dignity and regret. Despite her efforts, Navi Rawat’s responsible
daughter gets the shaft from the film, coming across rather uptight and
judgmental, even though she’s the only one working a steady job.

Playback
never breaks any new ground, but it has some
nice moments of honesty. There is a
messiness to the characters that rings true.
Avoiding quirk for quirk’s sake, The
Playback Singer is a small but earnest film that exceeds expectations. Recommended for Mishra’s fans and regular viewers
of smarter relationship dramas, The
Playback Singer screens this Friday (3/1), Sunday (3/3), and Tuesday (3/5)
as part of this year’s Cinequest in San Jose.

IBFF Showcase ’13 (SF Bay Area): Mindfulness and Murder

Father
Ananda is sort of like a Buddhist Father Brown, except he has more first-hand knowledge
of the criminal element. The former police
detective intended to lead a peaceful existence as a monk, but homicide has
followed him into the monastery in Tom Waller’s Thai mystery Mindfulness and Murder (trailer here), which screens
this Saturday night as part of the 2013 International Buddhist Film FestivalShowcase in the Bay Area.

Father
Ananda is a man to be reckoned with, but he had his reasons for leaving the
job, as viewers learn over the course of the film. When one of the boys in his monastery’s youth
shelter program is murdered, the Abbott asks Ananda to investigate. He will not be getting in the way of the cynical
Inspector Somchai, who closes the case half an hour after responding to the
call. It turns out the late Noi was a
hard kid to love, who was reportedly involved in the narcotics trade. Perhaps he was not the only one. Father Ananda soon uncovers rumors of drug-dealing
monks and undercover narcs. Suddenly, a
person or persons unknown have taken an unwelcome interest in Father Ananda and
his temple boy assistant Jak.

Mindfulness is one of the
most picturesque murder mysteries you are likely to see anytime soon. Cinematographer Wade Muller exploits the
exotic backdrop for all its worth. Similarly,
the monastic setting adds unusual wrinkles to whodunit. Solving the case is not merely a matter of
earthly justice for Ananda. There are implied karmic implications for the monastery.

Arguably,
Mindfulness is rather a bold
selection for the IBFF showcase. There
is the clear suggestion it is not unheard of for less savory individuals to
adopt monks’ robes as a means of gaming the system. Its portrayal of the Thai justice system is
also far from flattering. Yet, there is no
denying the virtuous nature of Father Ananda or the appeal of Vithaya
Pansringarm’s quietly engaging performance.
They are an actor-character tandem worthy of a franchise.

The
supporting cast is a somewhat mixed bag, but Ahbijati “Meuk” Jusakul is nicely
hardboiled as Somchai, while American-born Prinya Intachai has his moments as
Brother Satchapalo, the instant prime suspect.
For a random bit of celebrity, former Miss Universe Natalie Glebova
(currently based in Thailand) also briefly appears as herself.

Waller’s
tempo is hardly break-neck, which has its pros and cons. Although it might be limiting for genre fans,
the meditative tone perfectly suits the hero and setting. Indeed, watching Father Ananda struggle with the
demands of the spiritual and worldly is fascinating (more than even the crime
story itself). Recommended for those who
enjoy cerebral mysteries, Mindfulness and
Murder screens Saturday night (3/2) at the Smith Rafael Film Center, as
part of this year’s IBFF Showcase in the Bay Area.

During
the Showcase, patrons will also be inspired by Dafna Yachin’s Digital Dharma, documenting the efforts
of American academic E. Gene Smith to digitize and preserve the sacred and
secular texts of Tibet. Further
noteworthy selections include Victress Hitchcock’s When the Iron Bird Flies, a provocative exploration of the Tibetan
Buddhism’s surprising international growth during its unfortunate period of
exile, and Naomi Kawase’s visually dazzling yet deeply humane Mourning Forest. Check their website for times and venues
here.

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Hava Nagila: the Story of a Song

Like
Abel Meeropol’s “Strange Fruit,” “Hava Nagila” is a song worthy of its own biographical
treatment. It started in Ukraine and
became a staple of Jewish American celebrations, but the identity of its
composer remains a controversy. Documentary
filmmaker Roberta Grossman tells the story of the song and those who sing it in
Hava Nagila: the Movie (trailer here), which opens this
Friday in New York.

It
was based on a nigun, a wordless prayer chant incorporated into the services of
the Nineteenth Century Ukrainian Hasidic community. To commemorate the Balfour Declaration, it
was adapted into the song now commonly heard at weddings and bat/bar mitzvahs. Just who adapted it depends on whether you
talk to the Idelson or Nathanson families.
Likewise, it means different things to different musicians. To a serious Klezmer artist like Frank
London, it is rather a cliché. Yet to
old school entertainers like Glen Campbell and Irving Fields, it is a rhythmic
crowd-pleaser. Yes, that Glen Campbell. He recorded “Hava” as the B-side to his “True
Grit” single and shares some pleasant reflections with Grossman during an
interview recorded at his synagogue a few years back.

Indeed,
Hava will certainly change many
viewers perception of Campbell, but it is the ageless Irving Fields who truly
demands his own documentary. Known for
fusing traditional Jewish music with Latin dance music, the ninety-four
year-old Fields still gigs as a leader six nights a week in Manhattan—and could
easily pass for a man at least twenty-five years his junior. The music must keep him young, naturally including
“Hava.”

Hava boasts some
impressive musician-commentators, including Harry Belafonte (interviewed in the
Village Vanguard, where he once performed when Max Gordon also booked folkies),
Johnny “They Call Me Bruce” Yune, and Russian indie singer-songwriter Regina
Spektor, who relates “Hava” to the Russian Refusenik experience.

Less
successful is the rather muddled 1960’s section, in which we are told the
Jewish children of the suburbs embraced the song as some kind of folky communal
something or other. The film’s chatty
tone also becomes somewhat problematic over time. Co-produced by Friends co-creator Marta Kauffman, Hava’s shticky title cards and comedy sketch interludes often feel
like a sitcom trying too hard to be irreverent.

Although plenty of talking heads consider “Hava”
corny, it is hard to dislike a song so deeply associated with celebration and
the early founding of the State of Israel.
It is also hard to argue with the likes of Campbell, Elvis Presley, and longtime
Israel booster Lionel Hampton, all of whom covered “Hava.” Despite its weirdly inconsistent tone, Hava puts “Hava” in the proper
historical context. Recommended for
those interested in the intersection of Jewish history and musical tradition, Hava Nagila: the Movie opens this Friday
(3/1) in New York at the Lincoln Plaza.

Monday, February 25, 2013

SFFS’s Artist-in-Residence Ashim Ahluwalia’s Miss Lovely

Technically,
it is illegal to exhibit films that are not certified by India’s so-called censorship
board. Of course, it happens
anyway. For so-called “C-Grade” filmmakers
and performers, going legit is a tricky proposition, but Bollywood dreams die
hard in San Francisco Film Society Artist-in-Residence Ashim Ahluwalia’s Miss Lovely (trailer
here). In addition to the Society’s educational
outreach programs for local schools and aspiring filmmakers, Ahluwalia will
attend a screening of Miss Lovely and
participate in a special artist talk, both of which should be fascinating,
because this is a film guaranteed to inspire questions, starting with just how
much of his misadventures in underground filmmaking are based on truth.

The
Duggal Brothers specialize in grinding out horror-themed sex features for the seamy
C-Grade circuit. Vicky is a born user
who calls the shots, while Sonu is sensitive and passive by nature. They specialize in production, leaving
distribution to their dodgy associates.
When Vicky gets ideas about vertical integration, it causes considerable
difficulties. However, personal problems
will be the brothers’ ultimate undoing.

Sonu
is completely enamored with Pinky, a girl from a strictly traditional family,
who harbors aspirations of Bollywood stardom.
The quiet Duggal Brother is determined to finance and direct a
mainstream star vehicle for her, to be titled Miss Lovely. He is even
willing to use his brother’s money to do so.
Fraternal ties are frayed and secrets are revealed, as the illicit combination
of sex and money inevitably leads to tragedy.

Originally
Ahluwalia intended to make a documentary about the scandalous C-Grade film
industry, but reconceived Miss Lovely as
a narrative feature out of necessity. He
definitely immerses viewers in the sleazy, dangerous vice world. For the most part, he deliberately eschews
the hallmarks Bollywood filmmaking.
Nonetheless, the frequently funky soundtrack goes down smooth.

Hardly
a glamorization of C-Grade films, Ahluwalia portrays the Duggal’s enterprise as
grubby, exploitative, and thoroughly dominated by underworld types. It is far more a cautionary tale than a Hindi
Boogie Nights. Things definitely come to grief pretty darn
fast. Yet, somehow the faux cheesy scenes
of the Duggals’ naughty horror movies will appeal to a lot of cult viewers’
inner Tarantinos. Indeed, production and
costume designer Tabasheer Zutshi’s team does spot-on work fully recreating this
lurid environment on-screen.

Most
importantly, this is clearly a milieu Ahluwalia fully understands. Straddling genres, he toys with crime story
elements, but essentially tells a Cain and Abel tale, skewering India’s celebrity-obsessed
culture and sexual hypocrisy along the way.
Stylistically, he spans the gamut from trippily disorienting to
in-your-face naturalism. This is
kitchen-sink filmmaking at its most relentlessly indie.

Anil
George’s Vicky Duggal is a compulsively watchable, almost mesmeric
pseudo-villain. Nearly unrecognizable from
Gangs of Wasseypur, Nawazuddin
Siddiqui revels in cringy pathos as poor Sonu. Frankly, much of the supporting
cast-members are essentially hanging on for dear life, but that sort of works
given the circumstances.

Big, bold, and fearless, Miss Lovely approximates the sweep and scale of the Bollywood it
rejects. Part expose and part fall-from-grace
epic, Miss Lovely is highly recommended
for connoisseurs of Indian art cinema and those who simply love films about
filmmaking (in all its ragged forms). It
screens at the New Peoples Cinema in San Francisco this Thursday (2/28), with
Ahluwalia’s Artist Talk to follow next Tuesday (3/5) at FilmHouse, as part of
his residency now underway with the San Francisco Film Society.

Into the Shintoho Mind Warp: Ghost Cat of Otama Pond

If
you have read your Poe you know a cat without an outraged sense justice can be
a real handful. However, this spectral
feline’s thirst for vengeance transcends generations, ensnaring an innocent
couple in Ishikawa Yoshiro’s Ghost Cat of
Otama Pond, which also has its official New York premiere as part of the
Japan Society’s 2013 Globus Film Series, Into the Shintoho Mind Warp: Girls, Guns & Ghosts.

It
is getting late, but no matter which path they take, Tadahiko and Keiko always
end up back at the same ominous pond.
Spying a black cat, Tadahiko insists on following it to presumed
shelter. Unfortunately, it takes them to
a deserted (and in fact haunted) house that renders Keiko catatonic. Seeking help, Tadahiko stumbles across the
home of a priest, who attempts an exorcism, while explaining the sinister
history of the area.

During
the feudal era, Yachimaru, the son of the village headman, was in love with
Kozasa, the daughter of his father’s bitter rival, Gensai. Unfortunately, after Yachimaru leaves to
start a career in the capital, Gensai and his ally the Magistrate kill
Yachimaru’s father and withered granny, capturing his sister. Shortly thereafter, she manages to take her
own life rather than submit to the Magistrate’s foul desires. The family cat Tama saw it all and is
profoundly offended. Before the long,
the supernaturally empowered cat stalks the killers, with the help of Kozasa,
in a partly willing state of possession.
Payback ensues.

When
Tama assumes a crazy cat woman form, Otama
approaches Corman-esque territory.
However, when it is simply the stealthy feline or the vacant eyed Kozasa
directing the uncanny torments, the film is all kinds of creepy and
atmospheric. Yoshiro makes particularly
effective use of his evocative settings, the spooky houses and deep dark well
that eerily reappear in the later time frame.

In
dual roles as the star-crossed lovers of both eras, Shôzaburô Date is
sufficiently uptight or tightly wound as Tadahiko/Yachimaru, whereas Noriko
Kitazawa is kind of spectacular as the vengeful Kozasa (while spending most her
time as Keiko either whining or in a paranormal coma).

Yoshiro was a protégé of Nobou Nakagawa, whose
influence can be seen in Otama’s
bone-deep themes of honor and betrayal, macabre use of traditional folkloric
elements, Hammer-like color cinematography, and aptly moody soundtrack. A little overstuffed up top with witchy
apparitions, a little less would have been more in Otama, which is always the case for this sort of film. Yet, its third act is a site to behold for
genre fans. Where have these Shintohos
been all our lives? Highly recommended
for fans of both 1960’s horror movies and Japanese cinema in general, Ghost Cat of Otama Pond screens this
Friday (3/1) at the Japan Society as part of the can’t miss Shintoho Mind Warp series (that will
continue on to Philadelphia, San Francisco and Vancouver later in the year).

The Condemned: The House of the Spirits

The
worst crimes are always committed by altruists, but Ana Puttnam knows her oncologist
father is different. She has returned to
his home town in hopes of restoring his reputation while he is still alive. However, something or someone in their
ancestral home begs to differ in Roberto Busó-García’s supernatural drama The Condemned (trailer here), which opens this
Friday in New York.

Largely
incapacitated, Dr. Puttnam (with two t’s) is not long for this earth. His daughter has brought him back to their
stately manor house in Rosales, Puerto Rico, where it all began, to establish a
museum dedicated to his philanthropic work.
It was here that he established his first free cancer clinic for the
poor. However, he has also been dogged
by scandalous rumors regarding his early career. She was hoping the villagers would rally to
his defense, but nobody seems to want to get involved. As she presses on, strange things start
happening in the house. The planned exhibitions
are a particular focus of the mysterious venting.

Only
two people in Rosales are happy to see the Puttnams return. One is the loyal family retainer
Cipriano. The other is the new chauffeur,
the one villager willing to present himself for prospective employment. Each has their reasons for their interest in
the Puttnam family. Likewise, they are
both uneasy with Ana’s plans to revive the family’s big Christmas soiree for
the townsfolk. At least she will get
some use out of her mother’s old crystal chandelier tree.

It
is hard to decide whether The Condemned is
really intended as horror film or more of an uncanny morality tale. There is one gruesome death, but it is rather
out of place, leading one to wonder if it was a cast-member request Busó-García
obliged. Aside from a handful of shocking
moments, it is more about creeping dread and the corrupting influence of the
past on the present—almost more Tennessee Williams than H.P. Lovecraft.

Still,
Busó-García and production designer Suzanne Krim’s team crafted quite a gothic
setting. That chandelier tree becomes the
indelible image of the film, but the rest of the house is quite atmospheric
too. Frankly, Busó-García’s deliberate
genre coyness deftly keeps viewers off-balance and unlikely to anticipate the
third act revelation.

Poised
and photogenic, Cristina Rodlo is surprisingly engaging as Ana Puttnam,
completely avoiding any scream queen theatrics or manipulations. Her work holds up, even as the audience’s
perspective shifts. Popular Puerto Rican
comic actor René Monclova is also suitably earnest yet appropriately mysterious
as Cipriano.

Visually, one can see the influence of the
Spanish horror movie renaissance on The
Condemned, but Busó-García tells his tale with restraint. While it is certainly slow by the genre
standards that may or may not apply, it all more or less comes together at the
end. Recommended for those who enjoy
their paranormal fare on the cerebral side, The
Condemned opens this Friday (3/1) in New York at the Quad Cinema.

Sunday, February 24, 2013

Into the Shintoho Mind Warp: The Ghost Story of Yotsuya

When
revenge is promised, revenge must be delivered.
One villainous samurai learns this the hard way in Tsuruya Nanboku’s
classic Kabuki drama. It was a lesson
that would be repeated in thirty screen adaptations. This one is considered the best, but it has
not been widely screened in America, as is true for most of the upstart genre
studio Shintoho’s late 1940s to early 1960’s releases. In its New York premiere, Nobou Nakagawa’s The Ghost Story of Yotsuya launches the
Japan Society’s 2013 Globus Film Series, Intothe Shintoho Mind Warp: Girls, Guns & Ghosts.

Iwa’s
father is not about to let his daughter marry Iemon. It is not just because he is a position-less
samurai. He can tell the man is a bit of
a cad. Unfortunately, the proud ronin
reacts badly when rebuffed yet again.
Killing the man and a well heeled associate, Iemon finds himself
beholden to the crafty servant Naosuke to back up his story. Swearing to Iwa he will avenge her father, he
instead dispatches her sister Sode’s intended, again with the help of the
insidious Naosuke.

As
the years pass, Iemon claims to be pursuing retribution in much the same way
O.J. was searching for the “real killer.”
By now, the sociopathic ronin has tired of Iwa and the constant hassling
to make due on his promises. Instead, he
covets Ume, the daughter of a wealthy clan leader and the position she would
bring. Of course, good old Naosuke has
the answer: a poison that first disfigures and then kills. Inviting over Takuetsu, her torch-carrying
admirer, to complete the frame-up, Iemon completes the evil deed and embarks on
a new life with Ume. However, when Iwa
pledged revenge from beyond the grave, she was not kidding.

Yotsuya probably should
be classified as a horror film, but by the time Iwa and Takuetsu rise from the
dead, viewers are ready to through in their lot in with the angry spirits. In the tradition of E.C. Comics, Yotsuya is a case of bad things
happening to bad people. Nonetheless, it
is all kinds of creepy and atmospheric.

Frankly,
it is rather flummoxing that Nakagawa is not more renowned amongst genre
cineastes. It really ought to rank with
Shindo’s Kuronekoand Onibaba. While many focus on Iwa’s grisly transformation,
Nakagawa’s patience introducing the supernatural elements, effectively cranks
up the tension before the cathartic release.
Arguably, it is also a comparatively feminist genre outing, with Iwa’s
sister Sode facing their nemesis in the climatic fight sequence, sword in hand,
along with an ally making a surprise reappearance.

As Iwa, Katsuko Wakasugi has one of the all time great and gruesome death scenes. She would also be quite scary as an angry
ghost, were we not so primed for Iemon’s comeuppance. In a way, the final third of Yotsuya is like a Grudge film in which viewers root for the supernatural force. Likewise, Noriko Kitazawa is appealingly
earnest and swings a credible sword as sister Sode. Shuntarô Emi is hissable loathsome as Naosuke,
in an enjoyable genre bad guy kind of way.
Oddly, Shigeru Amachi (whom Nakagawa would send to Hell as the
protagonist of Jigoku) is a bit of a
cold fish as Iemon. It is hard to
understand why Iwa or Ume would be charmed by him, but his karmic beatdown is
certainly satisfying.

Filmed by cinematographer Tadashi Nishimoto (a future
Bruce Lee alumnus) in queasy hues of red and yellow, and accompanied by Michiaki
Watanabe’s eerie kabuki-esque score, Ghost Story of Yotsuya is a quality production that holds up spectacularly decades
later. Recommended for fans of the supernatural
who also appreciate psychological depth and archetypal resonance, it screens
this Wednesday (2/27) at the Japan Society, with a party to follow featuring the
music of Neo Blues Maki. The drool-worthy Shintoho
Mind Warp retrospective continues with more screenings over the weekend.

Saturday, February 23, 2013

A History of Israeli Cinema: The Birth of the Bourekas and Beyond

Ten
Israeli films have been nominated for the best foreign language Academy Award,
which is not bad for a small, relatively young country, living with the
constant threat of terrorism. While Israeli
filmmakers have yet to take home the Oscar, they have become the toast of
international festival circuit. The development
of their national cinema is chronicled and analyzed in Raphaël Nadjari’s two
hundred nine minute documentary undertaking, A History of Israeli Cinema(trailer here), now available on
DVD from Kino Lorber.

Premiering
during the final days of 1932, Chanukah in fact, Chaim Halachmi’s Oded the Wanderer is considered the
first Israeli feature, well predating UN recognition. Focusing on the ruggedness of nature and the even
more rugged protagonist, it became a model for the Zionist-minded cinema that
would follow. Ironically, one of the
films the most effectively swaying world opinion Israel’s way was the product
of Hollywood liberals: Otto Preminger’s Exodus,
starring Paul Newman. In contrast, the subsequent
wave of Israeli films would challenge notions of Zionism to varying degrees.

Arguably,
the most popular new movement were the so-called Bourekas films, ethnic melting
pot comedies named after the savory Eastern European pastry (which you can find
in New York at Café Noi). At times, the
humor ranged towards the broader end of the spectrum, but they presented more
diverse, less severely stoic characters for audiences to identify with.

Of
course, Israeli filmmaking continued to evolve, largely reflecting the same
cultural shifts apparent in Western cinema.
The “New Sensitivity” school incorporated Cassavetes like intimacy with the
avant-garde sensibilities of European art cinema. As the 1960’s became the 1970’s, films became
more overtly political, directly questioning the traditional Zionism of the
1930’s and championing the indigenous and former Arab populations’ claims for
exceptional victim status.

It
is a frustrating fact of life for Israel’s international supporters that the
democratic state’s home grown films are often as critical as those coming from
Hollywood and its hostile neighbors, which is indeed reflected in Nadjari’s History.
Nonetheless, the lack of love for Menahem Golan’s zeitgeist-bucking Operation Thunderbolt is an unfortunate omission. Golan appears quite frequently as an
interview subject, mostly in reference to the early Bourekas films he
produced. Nadjari never explores his
American interlude as half of the Golan-Globus running Cannon Films, bringing
to the world the American Ninja franchise
amongst other meathead classics.
Technically speaking, they are not Israeli films, but who wouldn’t want
to show clips of Steve James and Michael Dudikoff slicing through hordes of ninjas
like straw men?

Arguably,
Nadjari has a bias towards art films, but so will most of the viewers seeking
it out. He has a shrewd eye for
selecting illustrative clips and shows the patience to let them play out
sufficiently. Even though he shows the
very end of Hill 24 Doesn’t Answer,
considered the first feature film officially produced in the new state of
Israel, it will definitely make war movie buffs want to see the whole thing
from the beginning. He talks to just
about every filmmaker of stature, including Joseph Cedar (helmer of Footnote), Amos Gitai, Ronit Elkaetz
(who also co-starred in Eran Kolirin’s Oscar disqualified The Band’s Visit), and Dover Kosahvili. Being good marketers, Kino also includes
trailers for their other Israeli films, which feels more like a DVD extra in
this case than merely an attempt to plus-sell.
Recommended for patrons of Israeli culture and armchair film historians,
A History of Israeli Cinema is now
available as a two-disk set from Kino Lorber.

Friday, February 22, 2013

11 Flowers: A Difficult Era to Come of Age

Wang
Han should not be growing up in the countryside. Whether they like it or not, his parents were
forced to relocate to Guizhou province as part of the Cultural Revolution’s
Third Front campaign. For an active
eleven year old boy, it is not such a bad environment. However, he has an unusual vantage point to
observe the struggles of another “intellectual” family in Wang Xiaoshuai’s 11 Flowers (trailer here), which opens today
in New York.

Frankly,
Wang Han’s father is fortunate to have a job with an out-of-town opera company,
but it requires spending extensive time away from home. Each time he commutes to work, he accompanies
Wang Han part of the way to school. It is
an important ritual that cements their bond.
Wang Han does not share a similar bond with his stern factory worker
mother. When chosen to be the leader of
his school’s morning calisthenics (part of their daily Maoist regimen), Wang
Han’s principal rather insensitively tells the boy to ask for a new shirt for
the occasion. Of course, this would be a
considerable investment in money and cloth ration vouchers for the family. Nonetheless, his mother eventually relents.

For
a brief period, life is good for Wang Han, but the discovery of a dead body is
an ill omen, as is the conspicuous distress experienced by Jue Hong, his
frequently absent crush. While his
family has largely avoided trouble, her “intellectual” father, Xie Fulai, has
not. Nor has she. Evidently, the dead man raped the young girl,
as her brother the killer explains to Wang Han, when circumstances bring them
together in the forest. It is a
frightening meeting for the eleven year old, made considerably worse when the
fugitive forcibly takes his new shirt.

It
might be overstating matters to describe the semi-autobiographical 11 Flowers as the late Cultural Revolution
era version of To Kill a Mockingbird,
but it gives a general sense of what to expect from the coming of age
story. Wang focuses on the personal, but
the political periodically intrudes in rudely menacing ways. Through Wang Han’s eyes, the Cultural
Revolution is not so much an exercise in ideological excess, but the periodic
explosion of street thuggery, as when his father is caught in a Red Guard
rampage.

Liu
Wenqing is a remarkably expressive young actor, who perfectly anchors the
film. He makes Wang Han’s slow evolution
from innocence to awakened conscience quite riveting and moving. Likewise, the young supporting cast-members
are spot-on as his classmates. Yet, the
subtle power of Wang Jingchun’s work as his father really sneaks up on
audiences. When he encourages Wang Han’s
painting as a means of artistic freedom, it feels light and natural at the
time, but it is hugely significant in retrospect.

11
Flowers is unusually
sensitive and accomplished. It is
probably the best film to focus on a youthful cast since Tom Shu-yu Lin’s Starry Starry Night, which was probably
the best since who knows what? Beautifully lensed by Dong Jinsong, it is
quality cinema on every level. Highly
recommended, 11 Flowers opens today
(2/22) in New York at the Quad Cinema downtown and the Elinor Bunin Munroe Film
Center uptown.

Thursday, February 21, 2013

FCS ’13: Nights with Theodore

The
Buttes Chaumont is a bit like the French version of Prospect Park. Both are popular with recreationists precisely
because of their wildness. However, some
heavy karma surrounds the Parisian park.
Whether it is good or bad is rather a matter of interpretation in Sébastien
Betbeder’s Nights with Theodore (trailer here), which screens as
a selection of Film Comment Selects 2013.

Buttes
Chaumont is such an integral part of Nights,
it gets its own documentary preamble.
Not exactly hallowed ground, it was once the site of the Royal gallows
and a slaughter yard for horses. Napoleon
III grandly reclaimed the land for public consumption when he commissioned the
park in 1860. Yet, it has always been
the subjects of rumors regarding secret subterranean rooms and mystical rituals.

When
Theodore meets Anna at a party, he impulsively sneaks into the park with
her. They spend the night together and
exchange numbers in the morning. The
next evening he convinces her to return.
Soon this becomes their regular nocturnal routine. We learn the park often exerts a strange influence
on people. Clearly, its effect on
Theodore is stronger than on Anna, who eventually starts to wonder if their unusual
courtship is sustainable.

Betbeder
creates an evocative late night atmosphere that hints at the mysterious without
ever committing to the supernatural. The
history he presents of the Buttes Chaumont is also truly fascinating. Frankly, it would be cool to see it as the
setting of a straight-up genre picture, featuring New Age cultists chasing
maidens through the underground passages.

That
is hardly what Betbeder set out to do.
Rather, Nights often feels
like the Facebook generation reboot of Bresson’s Four Nights of a Dreamer, which is an ambitious vibe to go for. At times Nights
with Theodore definitely veers into the hipsterish (especially the
soundtrack), but the extent to which fate is a palpable presence is quite
memorable.

While
Theodore initially comes across as too old and too scruffy for the collegiate
looking Anna, Pio Marmaï and Agathe Bonitzer are fairly convincing selling
their initial attraction and their developing whatever it is. They are both decidedly reserved screen
presences, but that sort of works in this context.

Clocking in just over an hour, Nights is a film that exceeds
expectations. Betbeder definitely
privileges mood over plot, but this is not at all French mumblecore. There is definitely something going on, even
if its exact nature remains somewhat obscure.
Recommended for connoisseurs of French cinema, Nights with Theodore screens Friday (2/22), Wednesday (2/27), and
next Thursday (2/28) at the Howard Gilman Theater as part of Film Comment Selects
2013.

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

FCS ’13: Dormant Beauty

Don’t
call Eluana Englaro the Italian Terri Schiavo.
The latter case was scandalously misreported by the drive-by media, as
civil libertarian Nat Hentoff passionately decried at the time. At least Englaro’s medical decisions were
made by a loved one with no conflicts of interest. That certainly did not stop Prime Minister
Silvio Berlusconi from getting involved, thereby guaranteeing considerable
drama. Director-co-writer Marco
Bellocchio portrays the resulting media feeding frenzy through the eyes of
three sets of fictional characters in Dormant
Beauty (trailer
here), which
screens as a selection of Film Comment Selects 2013.

After
a prolonged legal battle, Englaro’s father has transferred her to a private
clinic in Udine, where her feeding will be discontinued. She really is in a persistent vegetative
state. Berlusconi is not taking this
lying down. Legislation has been introduced
to save Englaro. Senator Uliano Beffardi
intends to buck his party and vote against it.
His reasons are personal. He once
had to make a similar choice for his late wife, but his relationship with his
pro-life daughter Maria has been strained ever since.

The
Englaro case also hits close to home for the retired actress known simply as “Divine
Mother.” She has preserved her beloved comatose
daughter for years in hopes she will eventually wake-up. Meanwhile, Dr. Padillo is not following the
case nearly as closely as his colleagues, but he is determined to prevent a
recently admitted drug addict from killing herself.

Bellocchio
applies a dramatic fairness doctrine to partisans on both sides, except the
former PM. Did he really say Englaro
looks healthy enough to “give birth to a son?”
Afraid so. Look, say what you
will about Berlusconi, but the man is never dull. Frankly, if Bellocchio had anything nice to
say about him, he would probably be drummed out of every directors’ guild. In contrast, his depiction of the senator and
his daughter is far from simplistic.

In
fact, Maria is a wholly sympathetic character, who strikes up an unlikely
romance with Roberto, the long-suffering brother of a wildly unstable
pro-euthanasia demonstrator. Their
bipartisan connection is one of the most appealing courtships seen on film in
years. Likewise, her relationship with
her father evolves in ways that are mature, believable, and satisfying.

Unfortunately,
the other two story arcs are not nearly as rewarding. Divine Mother mainly seems to be in the film to
compensate for Roberto’s creepy brother.
Granted, she is played by the film’s biggest star, Isabelle Huppert, and
valid reasons are established for cartoonish Catholicism. Nonetheless, the deck is clearly stacked
against her. While her sequences are a
tonal mishmash, they still most closely approach the operatic sweep of
Bellocchio’s kind of awesome Vincere.

Considerably
more engaging, the scenes shared by the doctor and his suicidal patient are
well acted (by Bellocchio’s brother Pier Gregorio and Maya Sansa) and ring with
honesty. They just feel like they were
spliced in to further obscure Bellocchio’s personal position. That is a worthy impulse, but it would be
unnecessary had he just focused on the Beffardis, whom most viewers will
consider the primary subjects anyway.

Toni
Servillo is absolutely fantastic as Beffardi, a decent man totally befuddled by
the modest importance bestowed on him late in life. He never plays the part as a mouthpiece for a
certain position, but as a world weary widower father. By the same token, Alba Rohrwacher
demonstrates perfect pitch as the rebelliously devout Maria. She develops some palpable opposites-attract
chemistry with Michele Riondino’s Roberto and gives the audience hope we can
all grow and develop.

Dormant
Beauty is sometimes a great
film. There is some wickedly funny
satire of the Italian senators that does not necessarily skew left or right,
simply skewering the political class instead.
Arguably, this is a case where less would have been more. Recommended for Servillo, Rohrwacher, and the
compelling vibe of the Udine protests, Dormant
Beauty is recommended for fans of Italian cinema and political drama when
it screens today (2/20), Friday (2/22), and Sunday (2/24) at the Howard Gilman
Theater as part of Film Comment Selects 2013.

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

FCS ’13: Call Girl

The
1970’s really were swinging for Sweden, especially the government. At the time, Olof Palme’s Minister of Justice,
Lennart Geijer, was pushing a measure to largely emasculate laws against
pedophilia, until he was caught up in the prostitution scandal that would subsequently
carry his name. As it happens, under-aged
girls were involved. It was a sordid but
bipartisan national scandal that makes great fodder for Mikael Marcimain’s real
life political thriller Call Girl (trailer here), which screens as
a selection of Film Comment Selects 2013.

Mere
days before what is expected to be a close election, an American actress suspiciously
resembling Jane Fonda sings the praises of the progressive PM never
specifically identified as Palme on television.
Meanwhile, crusading vice cop John Sandberg types his report with a
purpose. At every step, the state
security service has interfered with his investigation, as viewers soon learn
via flashback.

Iris
Dahl is too much for her mother to handle, assuming she ever tried. Fortunately, in liberal Sweden she can simply
deposit her problem child in a juvenile home that looks more like a hippy commune. Sneaking out is a snap, especially when her
cousin Sonja Hansson arrives to mutually reinforce their delinquency. Unfortunately, in the course of their
partying, they encounter Dagmar Glans. A
madam with a powerful clientele, Glans recruits the fourteen year-old girls for
her stable.

At
first, the cousins are seduced by the easy money and flashy lifestyle Glans
provides. Inevitably though, the work
takes a toll on them, physically and emotionally. Any ideas they might have about quitting are
quickly dispelled by the procurer and her enforcer, Glenn. After all, the girls could recognize some
rather powerful politicians. Initially,
Sandberg is oblivious to Glans’ young working girls and the notoriety of her
clients. He is simply trying to bust a
vice queen with apparent connections. However,
when his wiretaps come in with conspicuous gaps, Sandberg and his hours-from-retirement
partner start to suspect the scope of the conspiracy afoot.

Call Girl resembles a 1970’s
film in more ways than just soundtrack and décor. In an icily detached manner, it presents a
deeply cynical view of the Swedish government, definitely including St. Olof’s
administration. Nor does it take leering
pleasure from Glans’ dirty business. Marcimain
leaves little doubt Dahl and Hansson are grossly exploited by just about
everyone and the state social welfare establishment simply looked the other
way, for fear of “stigmatizing” them. We
even witness a strategy session for Geijer’s proposal to effectively normalize
sexual relations with minors.

With
credits including television miniseries and second unit work on Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, Marcimain was
well prepared to tell an intricate plotted, richly detailed, multi-character
tale of intrigue. Despite the very specifically
Swedish circumstances, it is always easy to follow. Somehow he also clearly conveys the unsavory
acts the cousins are forced to participate in, without reveling in the
luridness.

Frighteningly
seductive in a weird, matronly way, Pernilla August’s Glans vividly shows how
the devious exploit others and insinuate themselves with the powerful. It is a big, bravura portrayal of a user. As the used, Sofia Karemyr is shockingly
powerful portraying Dahl’s wilted innocence.
Risking type-casting (having appeared as Machiavellian game-players in A Royal Affairand Tinker Tailor), Danish-Swedish actor David Dencik again turns up as
government fixer, Aspen Thorin.

Call
Girl is a great period
production that never romanticizes its era.
Smart, tense, and unexpectedly pointed in its critique of the Swedish
justice system, Call Girl is highly
recommended for fans of complex political drama. It screens this Wednesday (2/20) and Thursday
(2/21) at the Howard Gilman Theater as part of Film Comment Selects 2013.

Inescapable: Syrian Hospitality

Assad’s
Syria is not exactly a family friendly tourist spot. Unfortunately, a former secret policeman’s
reticence only intrigued his grown daughter.
When she disappears in Damascus under mysterious circumstances, he must
temporarily return to his former homeland and life of deception in Ruba Nadda’s
Inescapable (trailer here), which opens this
Friday in New York at the IFC Center.

While
the Assads are never mentioned by name, their portraits are everywhere in Inescapable’s Damascus. The current civil war never intrudes into the
narrative, but the oppressive atmosphere is unmistakable. Once a promising young operative Adib Abdel
Kareem had to leave Syria in a hurry, for reasons he and his ex-comrade Sayid
Abd Al-Aziz understand only too well.
That is why the senior intelligence officer is slightly surprised when
Kareem shows up in his office, demanding he help the convicted traitor find his
daughter.

Kareem
already has the reluctant help of Fatima, the former teammate and lover Kareem
was forced to abandon, for whom Al-Aziz has long carried a torch. While the desperate father checks in with the
Canadian embassy simply so his presence in Syria will be officially recorded,
he soon discovers the smarmy consular officer Paul Ridge is actually well acquainted
with his daughter. It will become a
rather tricky affair, involving a high ranking pedophile in the Syrian
government and Kareem’s old Soviet spymaster colleague.

Born
in Canada, the half-Syrian Nadda obviously has an affinity for the country’s
culture and people, but no affection for the current government. As in the unusually elegant Cairo Time, she sets the mood well. Unfortunately, she is not a master of grabby
thriller pacing. As much as viewers will
want to embrace Inescapable as an
art-house Taken, there is simply too
much back-tracking and narrative down time.
Frankly, Nadda’s screenplay probably would have benefited from some
input from a genre hack. The power
struggles going on in the upper echelons of power are potentially juicy stuff,
but the film tends to lose momentum in rather workaday sequences.

Alexander
Siddig is a charismatic screen presence, who does a credible slow burn as
Kareem. In contrast, Marisa Tomei’s Fatima
just does not have the right edginess for a femme fatale or the purposefulness
of woman conspiring against a despotic regime.
In truth, it is not really clear what she is there for, besides picking
up Kareem at the border. However,
Israeli Oded Fehr (a veteran of the Israeli Navy, El-Al security, and The Mummy franchise) brings some roguish
style points to the film as Al-Aziz.

Largely shot in South African instead of Syria
and its neighbors, for obvious reasons, Nadda and cinematographer Luc Montpellier
still make it feels like it was filmed in the bazaars and back alleys of Damascus. Indeed, the look and vibe of the picture are
right on target, but the tension is sometimes lacking. Still, Inescapable
is certainly topical, earning Nadda credit for essentially scooping
Hollywood. For those hungry for Middle
East intrigue, Inescapable opens this
Friday (2/22) in New York at the IFC Center.

Monday, February 18, 2013

Lightning from Heaven: The Love Story Behind Zhivago

Boris
Pasternak’s epic novel Doctor Zhivago was
banned, denounced, and a major factor leading to the Nobel Prize for Literature
he was forced to decline. It was also a
love story. Unfortunately, the woman who
inspired Pasternak faced the full force of the Communist Party’s wrath, to an even
greater extent her more famous lover. Their
romance and its legacy also inspired Scott C. Sickles’ play Lightning from Heaven(trailer here), which officially
opened this weekend at the Main Stage Theater in New York.

Set
in various cells in the Lubyanka, Lightning
is told in flashbacks during Olga Ivinskaya’s many KGB interrogation
(torture) sessions. Sadly, she is
no stranger to the place. A literary
editor by profession, Ivinskaya had more in common with Pasternak than his wife
Zinaida. However, as the daughter of a
moderately high ranking military officer, Madame Pasternak was able to protect
her husband when he publicly spoke out against Stalin.

Of
course, the publication of Zhivago was
another matter entirely. Zinaida is
quite certain she is not Lara. After
all, the two fictional lovers never married.
Nor is the Party pleased with Pasternak’s portrayal of the Revolution
and the subsequent purges, so they target his greatest vulnerability: his
mistress-muse Ivinskaya. In order to
discredit the late Pasternak and his masterpiece, Vladilen Alexanochkin, the “good
cop” KGB agent, engages in a cat-and-mouse game with the sleep-deprived Ivinskaya. Either she will renounce Pasternak and Zhivago, or she will proclaim herself
the illicit inspiration for Lara.

In
a way, Lightning is like the
historical forebear of the dystopian television show The Prisoner, with the question “are you Lara” replacing “why did
you resign,” except it is very definitely based on fact. Sickles alters a detail here and there for
dramatic purposes, but he is more faithful to history than David Lean’s great film was to Pasternak’s source novel. It
is a smart, deeply literate play, driven by the conflict between individual artistic
integrity and the collectivist state. Perhaps
most touching are the scenes deliberately echoing Zhivago in which Pasternak and Ivinskaya find beauty in the
increasingly drab, dehumanized Soviet world about them.

Jed
Dickson resembles the Robert Frost-ish Pasternak that appeared on Time Magazineenough to look credible in
the part. More importantly, he really
expresses Pasternak’s poetic sensibilities.
As a private citizen, Pasternak made some problematic choices, but
Dickson makes them understandable, beyond the self-centeredness of the creative
class (though there is that as well).

Likewise,
Kari Swenson Riely is more than a mere victim of the Communist thought police,
although she certainly convincing enduring the KGB’s physical and emotional
torments. She develops a comfortable
romantic chemistry with Dickson’s Pasternak that is quite moving in an almost
chaste way. Yet, when her character
stands on principles, she makes it feel genuine and profound, rather than
didactic (like say a character from Soviet propaganda). It is also important to note the work of Mick
Bleyer as Alexanochkin, who keeps the audience consistently off-balance in
satisfyingly ambiguous ways.

Perhaps
the only historical figure getting short-changed in Lightning is Giangiacomo Feltrinelli, who ruptured his relationship
with the Italian Communist Party by publishing Zhivago. He comes across a
bit caricatured here, but that is trifling complaint. Lightning
is big idea production, rendered in intimately personal terms. It also boasts an admirably professional cast
that continued on like troopers even when a freak accident in the audience
forced an unusually long intermission Friday night. Highly recommended for fans of historical
drama or Zhivago in any of its incarnations,
the Workshop Theater Company’s production of Lightning from Heaven runs through March 9th at the Main
Stage Theater on 36th Street.

DF ’13: Tzvetanka

Tzvetanka
Gosheva was an oncology specialist forbidden to tell her patients they had
cancer. This is how medicine was
practiced in Bulgaria during the Soviet era.
It wasn’t pretty. Gosheva endured
the horrors of war and subsequent absurdities of Communist oppression, living
to tell the tale to her filmmaker grandson Youlian Tabakov in Tzvetanka (trailer here), which screens
again today as a selection of MoMA’s 2013 Documentary Fortnight.

Born
in 1926 to a prosperous shop-owner, Gosheva’s family would carry the “Bourgeoisie”
label like an albatross during the Communist years. While she recalls vivid memories of the
bombings, her real experiences with terror began post-war when her father was
picked up for a “brief interrogation.”
Despite eventually having both parents branded class enemies and
sentenced to labor camps, Gosheva somehow was admitted to university. She wanted medical studies but was initially
accepted as an English student, which seems doubly ironic given her suspect
background, but that was how the Socialist system worked.

Gosheva
passed away in the late 2000’s, but she obviously left behind an extensive oral
history and some surprisingly playful footage (sometime bordering on the
surreal). Tabakov does not take a
traditional talking head approach.
Instead, he creates impressionistic imagery to accompany his grandmother’s
recollections. Sometimes they are rather
whimsical, but probably the most striking visual is the blood droplets turning
into a crimson rain (not unlike the original Shining trailer) that perfectly fit her discussion of the post-war
purges and show trials her parents were caught up in.

At
times, Tabakov really pushes the hipster envelope with his post-modern visual
style. However, he always gives Gosheva
her full say, which ultimately keeps the film grounded in reality. Viewers quickly learn to appreciate her
resiliency and keen powers of observation.
She makes no secret of her contempt for the so-called “former Communists,”
whom she calls out for deliberately undermining Bulgarian democracy. Bulgaria will miss her, even if most of her
countrymen do not realize it.

At least Tabakov has preserved her memory and
her spirit. His Tzvetanka might be a bit eccentric as eulogies go, but avoiding the
maudlin seems perfectly in keeping with its subject. Recommended for students of the Soviet era as
well as those fascinated by intensely personal family histories, Tzvetanka screens again this afternoon
(2/18) as part of MoMA’s Documentary Fortnight.

Sunday, February 17, 2013

DF ’13: China Concerto

Something
as profoundly traumatic as the Cultural Revolution cannot simply be papered
over. It hangs over the national psyche,
like a malevolent ghost. As much as it
embraces globalism and crony capitalism, the excesses of the Mao years still
have a bearing on the present day China.
Indeed, it is part of the internal contradictions Bo Wang analyzes in
his documentary-essay China Concerto (trailer here), which screens as
part of MoMA’s 2013 Documentary Fortnight.

A
film of observation and rumination, Concerto
has a pseudo-epistolary structure, featuring a woman’s disembodied voice reading
a man’s dispatches from China. The
writer is not a passive viewer, having trained himself to dissect imagery and
look for the telling details nobody is supposed to notice. He is in the right place for it. Aside from the movie clips and newscast excerpts
incorporated for illustrative purposes, Concerto
was almost entirely shot in Chongqing, the China’s version of Chicago. While Bo Wang was shooting, Bo Xilai’s
neo-Maoist “Red Culture” campaign was in full swing, but the Chongqing party
secretary would soon be removed after the Wang Lijun scandal brought
international media attention to rumors of extensive corruption.

He certainly captured images that are both
striking and ironic. Perhaps his richest
vein of material is the park where viewers witness couples dancing under a
model of Mount Rushmore and an elderly man reclining near a Statue of
Liberty. Yet, tucked away, there is also
a cemetery dedicated exclusively to Red Guards that remains padlocked and
shunned. According to the woman’s
tantalizingly vague narration, it seems many of those interned were involved in
an incident of cannibalism, which has since been consigned to the memory hole. One suspects this park could easily be the
subject of an entire documentary feature.

It
is absolutely fascinating to watch Concerto
apply the techniques of deconstruction to official state propaganda. The stand-in for the filmmaker’s stand-in
explicitly argues China’s obsession with spectacle is intended to mask and
empower it Communist rulers. It also
offers trenchant analysis of the capitalism promoted by the state, a mutation
described as “collective capitalism,” in contrast to the western
individualistic variety. The
implications for the individual in Chinese society are obvious. That is one reason the correspondent always
focuses on a single individual when watching sprawling propaganda pageants.

Indeed,
Concerto’s concern for the overwhelmed
individual is rather noble, in a genuinely subversive way. As if its indie bona fides needed more
burnishing, China Concerto holds the
distinction of being a selection of the 2012 Beijing Independent Film Festival,
which was shutdown not once, but three times by the government. This is a film that simply encourages
audiences to think, but some might find that threatening. Highly recommended for sophisticated viewers,
China Concerto screens during MoMA’s Documentary
Fortnight this Wednesday (2/20) and Thursday (2/21), with the director present
for Q&A both nights. For Georgians,
it also screens March 27th at Kennesaw State and March 28th
at Emory, as part of the well curated Independent Chinese Film Series.

Saturday, February 16, 2013

Kiarostami at FSLC: Shirin

If
a pre-Islamic Persian king and an Armenian princess cannot make love work, than
what hope does anyone have? Considered
the rough Persian equivalents of Romeo and Juliet, Khosrow and Shirin ruled
their respective kingdoms, but their love was always beset with
complications. It would be fascinating
to see Abbas Kiarostami take on the legendary romance, but he tells the tale
immortalized in Nizami Ganjavi’s epic poem rather obliquely in Shirin, which screens tonight as part of
the Film Society of Lincoln Center’s retrospective series, A Close-Up of Abbas Kiarostami.

Perhaps
someone has adapted Khosrow and Shirin for
the big screen, but it was not really Kiarostami. Instead, he filmed over one hundred Iranian
actresses and Juliette Binoche as they watch that hypothetical movie. At least it has a soundtrack, so viewers can
follow the story that has tears flowing almost right from the start. The two protagonists fall deeply in love with
each other before they even meet properly.
Naturally, their star-crossed love never runs smoothly. Eventually, Khosrow marries Caesar’s daughter
to secure Rome’s military support retaking his former throne. It is a long marriage, complete with
kids. Meanwhile, Shirin abdicates,
moving to Iran to live a life of self-denial and waiting. However, the plan almost veers off into left
field when she meets this smitten stone-carver named Farhad.

It
sounds like great epic stuff, but that’s as far as we can tell. Shirin is
another example of Kiarostami subverting and de-privileging narrative. For Kiarostami, what the epic romance means
to the famous viewers is more important than the tale itself. The results are rather more interesting in
theory than as a sustained viewing experience.

To
be fair, Shirin offers a parade of
familiar faces for those well versed in Iranian cinema. Indeed, it is rather significant who is
present and who is not. For instance, Golshifteh
Farahani appears late in the film, but she would soon find herself disowned by
her country for appearing in a Western film, Ridley Scott’s Body of Lies. Of course, Shohreh Aghdashloo, the star of
Kiarostami’s pre-Revolutionary The Report
was long gone. Also missing from the
proceedings is the then lesser known Marzieh Vafamehr, who would later be
sentenced to ninety lashes and a year in prison (an insane judgment even by
current standards of the Islamist regime) for appearing in My Tehran for Sale. However,
Leila Hatami of the future Oscar winner A Separationis present and accounted for.

Often
feeling rife with meaning, Kiarostami’s films seem to spur deep tealeaf
reading. Arguably, the auteur gives the
epic a pronounced feminist spin, emphasizing how much Shirin sacrificed
compared to Khosrow’s relative comfort.
It is a reading encouraged by the actresses’ heavy emotional responses
to what they were not really seeing.
Yet, there is just as often a lingering doubt as to just how much is
wishful interpretation with Kiarostami, who has never taken social criticism as
far as his former protégé Jafar Panahi.

Shirin
never comes across gimmicky, thanks to
Kiarostami’s sensitive hand on the rudder, but it still overstays its welcome
as a feature. Half an hour or so would
have been sufficient to create the desired effect, even if it would have required
a shorter tragedy. Interesting at times,
but not essential, Shirin screens
tonight (2/16) at the Francesca Beale Theater as part of the FSLC’s Kiarostami
retrospective, which concludes tomorrow.

J.B. Spins

About Me

J.B. (Joe Bendel) works in the book publishing industry, and also teaches jazz survey courses at NYU's School of Continuing and Professional Studies. He has written jazz articles for publications which would be appalled by his political affiliation. He also coordinated instrument donations for displaced musicians on a volunteer basis for the Jazz Foundation of America during the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Send e-mail to: jb.feedback "at" yahoo "dot" com.